


The Crest of Your Wave

by ButterfliesAndPenguins



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Dry Orgasm, Ferdinand von Aegir Is A Virgin, Fingers in Mouth, First Time, Frottage, Gloves, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hubert is annoyed by yet Extremely Into This, Hubert's Degredation Kink Is Showing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Timeskip, Premature Ejaculation, Scent Kink, Sloppy Kissing, You say PWP I say In Hornia Res, clothed orgasm, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 06:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterfliesAndPenguins/pseuds/ButterfliesAndPenguins
Summary: Their first time together as Hubert absolutely devours Ferdinand's innocence, and they discover themselves within one another.Ferdinand’s hands were grasping anywhere, they clearly did not know where to go, and it seemed like they had never considered there could be a choreography, an established script for places that hands should go in these situations. Ferdinand, well-bred as he was, could understand that improvising music or dance was just jumbling up the learned steps into an order that would suit the mood. But here he was so spectacularly inexperienced that it might never have occurred to him that there were common dance steps—there was no method in mind besides needing Hubert, and his hands clutched with unpracticed desperation. In absolutely any other situation, Hubert would spring at the chance to needle him about his dreadful technique and lack of experience. And oh, how lovely would it be to someday see those brows prick, the lips pout, and the bluster of his attempt to retaliate with his body…





	The Crest of Your Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chryselis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryselis/gifts).

> I read [Chryselis'](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryselis/pseuds/Chryselis) fic [From Your Voice Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090830) and when I read this reference to their first time together:
> 
> _"A groan escapes his throat and the spell of his whisper breaks, voice cracking when he next speaks because at this rate, Hubert knows he’s going to climax like he did the first time they found themselves alone after confessing to months (years) of indirect courting and Ferdinand clambered into his lap like an eager dog, kissing him so badly and enthusiastically that Hubert had almost choked on the amount of spit, embarrassingly spilling into his pants without Ferdinand knowing because deep down, he’d always wanted to be used and humiliated like this."_
> 
> ...I was dying to read a fic about it, so I wrote one myself. I hope I did it justice, Chrys. :')

It happened so quickly, the prideful, reluctant confessions, now nearly forgotten, Ferdinand so willing—well, both of them so willing, if he was being honest—and the final culmination of ages of moments between them. To his surprise, Ferdinand had kissed him first, but it was Hubert who had refused to release him. 

Somehow they had settled with Hubert seated on the bench in his own room, shifting to keep an emotion-swept Ferdinand straddled across his lap. This was happening, no doubt about it, the noble was determined to communicate with every fiber of his being that he would not back down. However, every motion made it painfully more obvious to Hubert that the man had no idea what he was doing.

Ferdinand’s hands were grasping anywhere, they clearly did not know where to go, and it seemed like they had never considered there could be a choreography, an established script for places that hands should go in these situations. Ferdinand, well-bred as he was, could understand that improvising music or dance was just jumbling up the learned steps into an order that would suit the mood. But here he was so spectacularly inexperienced that it might never have occurred to him that there were common dance steps—there was no method in mind besides _needing Hubert_, and his hands clutched with unpracticed desperation. In absolutely any other situation, Hubert would spring at the chance to needle him about his dreadful technique and lack of experience. And oh, how lovely would it be to someday see those brows prick, the lips pout, and the bluster of his attempt to retaliate with his body… 

But right now, Hubert would risk nothing to break this spell, the blissful ignorance of this boyish noble. One scoff might shatter his lack of awareness that even this—bodies against bodies—could be considered a learned skill. Then his unfettered eagerness would vanish, his hands might stay with hesitation, and his damned awkwardness would put a lock on that beautiful voice of his… No, he could not risk losing this moment, not for anything in the world. His head spun with the realization that he was devouring this man’s innocence and that this might be the only time in his life Ferdinand would ever be so careless, so unpracticed at this. No one in the entire world would ever see him quite like this, no one besides Hubert von Vestra. Even Hubert himself wouldn’t have the privilege of witnessing him in this particular state again, not even if there were dozens of other times like this…

He froze, realizing he had already imagined Ferdinand returning to him again like this in the future. There was too much in his head, it was all threatening to spill out and drown them both until they woke up, choking and sputtering from this dream they could never return to. Hubert von Vestra may have been losing the battle for his heart, but he refused to lose what was his, in this moment. He _would_ see this through, he would ride the crest of Ferdinand’s wave and never let it shatter into foam until they had both had their fill.

Ferdinand’s lips tried to form words between kisses. “I’ve… ah— Hubert, I’ve never done… I’ve never done this b—” 

_I know, you hopeless man_, Hubert thought, kissing between his jaw and his ear to keep his thoughts occupied, tasting the faintest hint of dry stubble there, but it did not deter him.

“Hubert, have you ever…. with anyone—? _Mmh_!!” 

Hubert bit hard into the tendon of his neck, not wanting to answer that or to know what Ferdinand’s reaction would be. He would make it abundantly clear with his actions that at least one of them knew what they were doing. 

Hubert reached up and began undoing Ferdinand’s shirt with still-gloved hands, but something seemed strange. He realized his hands were trembling. He could not feel them shaking, but watched them, as if they were someone else’s, someone ancient. Ferdinand raised his arms and clasped those hands together with a sickeningly affectionate gaze, as if to tell him _“There’s no need to be frightened…”_

Frightened—Hubert? Of _Ferdinand_? He nearly laughed, but remembered not to shatter the spell. But then Ferdinand cupped his shaking hands and raised them to his lips, kissing them with such sincerity that he doubted his own heart for an instant. 

Ferdinand placed Hubert’s palms against his breast, reaching for the buttons at his collar and undoing the shirt himself. Hubert’s breath was quickening, Ferdinand was opening his shirt and looking up as if offering himself, giving him permission—as if Hubert wasn’t able to snatch him up for the taking, as if Ferdinand wouldn’t have been carried away by his own lack of self-restraint, easily surrendering to him. Hubert’s fingers tightened, pulling on the loose shirt and the redhead arched his neck to one side, intentionally helping him slip one sleeve off to expose his bare collarbone. 

Hubert blinked. Was it possible Ferdinand _did_ have some sort of hidden intent, some awareness of the power he had over him? Determined to keep him overwhelmed, Hubert sealed the freshly-revealed skin with his mouth, forcing a gasp from Ferdinand as if he had been struck. The noble fumbled to undo the rest of his buttons, Hubert making sure to chase each newly-exposed inch of skin with a kiss, passing over the creases of his stomach and doubling back, letting his lips drag across a nipple. There, a new type of gasp—one of almost maidenly surprise at a sensation he had never known, and Hubert nearly laughed in disbelief. Ferdinand’s innocence was dubious one moment, and then astounding the next. Hubert knowingly circled the tip of his tongue around the pink peak and then closed his mouth around him, kissing with all his might. 

“_Ohhh—_!”

Every piece of Ferdinand curled around him at once, pulling him closer by the neck and hips, shuddering sweetly. The hot breath of his voice flooded across Hubert’s scalp, pooling in his hair and clinging there. His chin lolled unawares, bringing his mouth directly against the top of his ear until his gasps were painfully loud, far too close for comfort, but how could Hubert stop him? He released his lips and glided a gloved thumb across the wet nipple, hearing Ferdinand swallow far too clearly, and sank his teeth over the same skin, biting just enough to leave a mark.

“OH Goddess, _Hubert—_!” Ferdinand hissed, a whine leaking from his throat afterward. Hubert’s eyelashes fluttered closed, drunk on that clear voice, and they tickled Ferdinand’s skin, making him shiver. Without waiting for him to catch his breath, Hubert slid his fingers beneath the still-clinging sleeves and peeled them off of his partner. Thinking twice, he crumpled the ruffled shirt in one fist and pressed it to his lips, deeply inhaling the scent of Ferdinand’s cologne for him to watch before dragging it down his throat and casting it aside onto the floor. The noble was watching transfixed, mouth agape, bare chest rising and falling unevenly. He blinked, pressing the back of a hand to his face self-consciously and averting his eyes briefly.

Hubert’s heart jumped into his throat, afraid to lose the balance of keeping him just at the edge of his senses. He dropped his chin in submission, looking placatingly up into Ferdinand’s eyes, and began tugging at the collar of his own shirt to match him. Ferdinand’s gaze immediately snapped back, mesmerized and his fingers reached automatically to accompany his. The look in his eyes was uncertain, but far from timid, as if he wasn’t sure what to expect when seeing Hubert’s naked body for the first time. For the first time Hubert went icy with fear—Ferdinand was so desperate in his desire that he had forgotten the possibility that he might not live up to whatever expectations this stupidly beautiful creature had for him or anyone else. 

It must have shown on his face, because Ferdinand bit his lip and whispered, “May I?”

Hubert’s head nodded on its own, and he kicked himself mentally.

He wanted to tear his eyes away from Ferdinand’s face and not watch, but it was impossible. 

A chill washed over him as the fabric parted and left his chest. The room was too cold, the fire left unattended for too long. They needed to be closer… He was too tense, and jumped when thin fingertips brushed him, feather-light, against his visible ribs. He could see Ferdinand’s eyes clearly, but the emotion behind them would not come into focus. It wasn’t surprise, it wasn’t delight, it wasn’t disappointment. No, it looked strangely somewhat like… relief. From what? 

As Ferdinand’s cool palms pressed against his stomach, sliding upward and brushing the sparse hair there with a maddeningly ticklish, inexperienced pressure, Hubert saw what was working itself out beneath Ferdinand’s brow. The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he eased forward, nearly touching their foreheads together, and his long hair dangled between them, ticking his stomach as well. His hands were drinking Hubert in, as if absorbing life-giving warmth from his still-clammy skin. Hubert realized that this grown man, who had never been with a lover, had never been with anyone in any intimate capacity, likely since childhood. For years he had resented Ferdinand as being someone with anything he could want within his reach, but the preposterous code of nobility he lived his life by had mandated his self-denial—his isolation—all this time. Not only was he going against his entire upbringing in this moment, but he was letting himself reach out and letting himself be reached for the first time. Hubert was stunned that he had been unable to imagine that this man, lit with eternal flames of optimism, could secretly be as trapped and starved for affirmation as him.

Still with his eyes locked onto Ferdinand’s, Hubert reached up and clasped one of the freckled hands to press it against his own cheek, sealing their touch. The man held his face with aching tenderness, and the feelings it called up in him burned like scalded milk at the bottom of a kettle. All at once he wanted both to run away and to absorb Ferdinand’s touch until their flesh was melted together. Ferdinand wasn’t finished, he moved his fingers along Hubert’s mouth, tracing the outlines of him as if confirming they were real, and Hubert was reminded of a small child that he had been allowed to hold once, years ago, that had reached curiously for his face. The way his fingers moved was far from arousing, it wasn’t even romantic, but Hubert knew he wasn’t being seduced or enticed. He could see answers being confirmed in Ferdinand’s eyes for questions he may have held for years. How long had this man secretly imagined what Hubert’s face felt like in his hands? The idea was dizzying, but even more so were the nails that skidded along his scalp as fingers combed through the drape of black curls at his brow. _Oh… how had he never known he was longing for exactly that?_

Ferdinand’s hand brushed and smoothed his hair sweetly, skillfully—this he was unexpectedly good at. He pressed his lips to Hubert’s forehead posessively, inhaling slowly. Hubert did not fail to notice that the man was discovering the scent of his hair, just like the moment when he always paused to drink in the aroma in his teacup before taking his very first sip.

It was a moment before Hubert realized his breath had entirely escaped him in an enamoured sigh. Ferdinand pulled back and blinked at him, clearly pleased, but seeing the triumph in his rival’s face was soothing, rather than irritating for once. Hubert realized his own eyes were clinging to him in adoration, fully under the spell of his strange, childish wonder. He took a deep breath to clear his head—he had to regain control again—and kissed the bend of Ferdinand’s delicate throat, intent on leaving a mark.

“_Hubert…_” he sighed, as if the name had been pressed out of him. If Hubert had far less shame he would have begged to hear that name again and again. 

“Just _touch me_,” he growled, halfway between commanding and pleading.

“...Where?”

“_Everywhere._”

He obeyed. Ferdinand’s hands fumbled, clutching at skin and arms and waist. They probed him ticklingly—perhaps Hubert was more sensitive than he cared to admit—working upward as their lips met again. They grasped the back of his neck, scraping the roots of his hair, then drifted to the front. The kiss deepened and Ferdinand’s fingers unknowingly tightened beneath Hubert’s larynx, constricting his throat for a few moments until the blood raced in his veins. Hubert’s own hands dug into his partner’s hips and he groaned loudly. Ferdinand broke the kiss and pulled back with a hazy curiosity, eyes unfocused and lips shining, absurdly wet. Hubert’s own desires were no mystery to himself, but having them drawn out accidentally was accelerating things far too quickly. He had to reel himself in, but he needed to drown out any thoughts in Ferdinand’s mind, to keep him submerged in this stupor.

He wound his fingers through the strawberry-gold hair at the base of the noble’s neck and pulled him back down, submerging him beneath another kiss. Indeed, it was something like being underwater, while Ferdinand’s eager mouth covered them in too much saliva, and yet somehow not enough tongue. Hubert kissed back harder, almost correcting to show him how it was done, but it only made his partner more enthusiastic, trying to match him. As he bore down, Ferdinand’s thigh slipped, losing his balance in Hubert’s lap, sending the bench teetering beneath them. He fumbled, slamming down a hand for stability, right onto the painful swell between Hubert’s legs. It nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he grunted. Yet another barely-concealed desire of his nearly spilled out into the open far sooner than either of them needed. He refused to let Ferdinand know how foolish he was being in this moment, or how badly it was making him lose control in the least seductive way possible. 

He made use of the strategy he had prepared, wrenching on the hand full of Ferdinand’s hair and tearing a magnificent cry from his lips that twisted into a moan, and his voice buzzing beneath Hubert’s mouth at his throat. Wanting to taste every note of that voice, he sealed their mouths again in another kiss, which Ferdinand returned formlessly. His mouth was more full of sighs than kisses, gasping and exhaling far too much from his nose. It tickled annoyingly, and the looseness of his badly-timed lips was infuriating to reciprocate. The man still had no idea this was something one could be bad at, least of all he himself—Ferdinand von Aegir. At the same time his own body was reacting, desperate for more. Ferdinand was unwittingly rolling his hips, grinding against Hubert’s crotch. 

Hubert felt idiotic, like a floundering teenage boy again—though he believed he had never been with anyone who was themselves brand new at this. He had quickly shed the embarrassing memories of his first exposure to someone else long ago. And yet here Ferdinand had the arrogance to bear down onto _him_, to approach as if he is kissing _Hubert_, rather than being kissed. Not only did Hubert not have the will to correct him this time, but deep inside him this shame and annoyance at being helpless under hands _this_ incompetent was more intoxicating than he could handle. The fact that Ferdinand believed he was giving this moment to Hubert, however misguided, was pushing him over the edge far sooner than he wanted. The eager, boyish noble’s legs parted wider, pressing the stupidly obvious bulge in his breeches against Hubert’s own stifled erection and grinding painfully. He seized up, knowing it was too late to stop himself. He came far too soon, still fully clothed, hot shame and frustration sizzling on his neck as he throbbed weakly, knowing his chance for a truly satisfying end to this situation was entirely lost. And Ferdinand, single-minded as he was, had no earthly idea. 

The wetness spread uncomfortably in his trousers—thank fate he always wore black—running down his skin and clinging to the inside of his thigh. He shivered in disgust, but as Ferdinand pressed another too-wet kiss to his earlobe and then nipped at it just too firmly to feel pleasurable, he sucked in a breath. The fear of Ferdinand noticing the mess in his pants drove the thrill back into him and he carried on, now more desperate for satisfaction, determined to see this ridiculous man overwhelmed and in his full glory. At least now that he didn’t have to worry about timing his own restraint, he could unleash his focus on driving Ferdinand mad.

He unbuttoned each of his gloves at the wrist and moved to finally release his hands from them, but Ferdinand exclaimed quietly.

“No, _don’t_! I mean—wait.” 

Hubert blinked in surprise.

“Allow me.”

Ferdinand pulled one gloved hand toward his lips, and the dark-haired man wondered if he would kiss it. Instead his lips parted and he caught the tip of Hubert’s middle finger in his teeth, biting and slowly dragging the black glove off of his hand by one finger. Hubert’s mouth fell open in shock as Ferdinand turned his head to the side and let the glove fall from his teeth onto the floor beside them. 

He then lifted Hubert’s remaining hand and did the same to it, fixing him with a thickly-lidded gaze as he peeled the black leather away from his skin. This time the glove dropped down over the button of Hubert’s trousers. Hubert gulped audibly.

“I… I thought you said you’d never done this before...” Hubert said shakily, beside himself. 

“I haven’t,” Ferdinand said simply, his voice slow and thick, like honey. “But I’ve thought about doing _that_ at least a hundred times over.”

Hubert wondered, predictably, what else von Aegir had fantasized about doing to him over the years.

Working quickly to regain the upper hand, now that his were unveiled, Hubert painted over Ferdinand’s lips with two fingers before slipping them inside that eager, virgin mouth.

Ferdinand’s long eyelashes fluttered, he opened his jaw wider to grant Hubert access and tried kissing back, moving his tongue and closing lips down around him. He sucked lightly, somehow instinctively waiting for this, and Hubert did not grant him patience, pressing deeper into the pocket of his mouth. Ferdinand moaned, trying to accept them, but coughed, sputtering just on the edge of a gag. Hubert took far more pleasure in this than he should have. In retaliation, when he withdrew them, Ferdinand caught the fingers in his teeth and bit down, a glint in his eyes. An accidental smile twitched its way up Hubert’s mouth.

The eagerness in his eyes reminded Hubert of what his partner was truly craving, what he strove for in every situation. He was a fool for not making use of it sooner.

“Oh, Ferdie…” Hubert sighed fondly, shaking his head. “You truly are incredible.”

A light seared in Ferdinand’s eyes for the first time and his whole posture shifted. Hubert knew he had him on a string. He only had to be careful to avoid making the noble assess his own performance. 

“Your mouth, your skin… they are just as tantalizing as I knew they would be.”

Ferdinand was watching him, mouth parted in awe, as Hubert slid his grip around Ferdinand’s thighs and pulled him closer, gripping the ample curve of his ass.

Hubert was not above telling half-truths. “Your kisses, they set my mind ablaze… I need more, Ferdinand. _Ferdinand…_”

A gorgeous sigh and the redhead’s mouth was back on top of his. Hubert was sure to fill him with his tongue, pulling back and letting him gasp for breath. He had to get him as worked up as possible. He dipped his fingers inside that mouth once again, gathering necessary slickness, then used his tongue to add his own. 

“Let me see all of you,” he continued, keeping him distracted as he undid Ferdinand’s trousers, “we’ve both been waiting so long. Show me how much you’ve been keeping from me so cleverly all this time…”

That was possibly too far, Ferdinand might have known it was a lie, as obvious as their feelings had grown for one another over the years. But his eyes went wide as Hubert reached in and closed his hand around his length, drawing it out for them both to see. His cock was stiff and deeply flushed, but still not nearly at its limit. Hubert smiled appreciatively. He brought his mouth to Ferdinand’s again and whispered, “You don’t have to hide it anymore, show me your desire.”

Thankfully the dramatic words were exactly what Ferdinand wanted to hear, he kissed back desperately. While his eyes were closed, Hubert quickly undid his own trousers and pressed his own length flush with Ferdinand’s, the last of his ill-timed release dripping from his slit. He kept kissing harshly and wrapped his long fingers around both their shafts, stroking and pulling until all evidence was thoroughly tainted.

Ferdinand’s gasps quickly broke them apart, making kisses impossible, but Hubert didn’t mind any longer. 

“Goddess… Hubert, wait—”

“You’re perfect, darling,” Hubert rasped against his throat.

“_Ah_!” Ferdinand shivered at those words. “Wait, Hubert— what about…” he made an attempt to tug at the waist of his pants, clearly worried about soiling them, “we have to—!”

And now there was no way Hubert would let that request be met. He stroked faster, squeezing mercilessly and almost getting carried away at the deeply satisfying shape of both of them in his hand. He kissed Ferdinand’s open, panting mouth, settling for a bite out of his lower lip, and the noble cried out, becoming quickly overwhelmed. Hubert lingered a moment to swirl his thumb around the heads of both their cocks before adding his left hand as well. Ferdinand whined beautifully, responding to the pressure by pressing weakly into his hand, desperate for more. 

He was so eager, so woefully inexperienced. Hubert tried not to competitively imagine the torture he could someday put this man through, denying him release for an hour, maybe longer, teaching him that to truly chase pleasure you have to first evade it. He slowed his pace, but it only made Ferdinand more insistent, trying to compensate with experimental thrusting. Then came a shout as his skin was caught on one of their zippers. Hubert sighed with exasperation, kissing Ferdinand gently against the throat, soothing him back down to pleasure again until his shoulders are shuddering and his cries are going hoarse. He continued praising Ferdinand, mumbling things he forgot instantly, and that he doubted the man could hear anyway. As those wide thighs began to tremble, Hubert raised his lips to the man’s ear to time his final, lethal strike.

“You feel heavenly in my hands, my love… but someday I can’t wait to feel this inside of me.” 

He gasped loudly, shoulders shuddering and back arching as Hubert pulled him through his orgasm. Unable to resist, he made sure to aim Ferdinand’s release directly all along the hip of Hubert’s own dark trousers. He kissed Ferdinand’s open mouth before he was even able to close it, listening to his cries go hoarse and hoping everyone nearby could hear every single note.

It was all over too quickly, and Hubert was determined to get revenge for something Ferdinand had no idea about. As the redhead was still panting, he grabbed Ferdinand by the hips and lifted him off of his lap. He tossed him onto his back on the bed, pushing him down and watching his fiery hair blossom out behind him across the pillows. He noticed Ferdinand blush at being manhandled, making a note of that for later. 

Hubert kissed him all over, watching dappled blotches turn fuchsia on the thin, easily-colored skin and feeling his own jaw ache. It had been ages since he kissed anyone, and even longer since he kissed for any length of time. Ferdinand was saying Hubert’s name, protesting insincerely, but to shut him up Hubert removed Ferdinand’s pants, and then his own. He paused to let Ferdinand gaze down at him curiously, seeing the milky smears across the leather, finally letting himself be seen fully unclothed.

He returned to the bed, hovering over Ferdinand and kissing him all the way down—collar, chest, stomach, the hollow of his hips—and paused to follow the trail of darkening ginger hair. He watched the innocent noble’s eyes widen as he kissed at the crease of his thigh, breathing too deeply against his coarser hair there. The man squirmed at the sight of it and Hubert relished the predictable reaction, making no attempt to hide his wicked smile. _Oh, Ferdinand von Aegir_, he thought in triumph, _what messes I could truly make of you_.

He made no hesitation in licking the lingering slickness from every inch of Ferdinand, pushing the pale legs further apart on their hinges and taking the softening tip of his cock in his mouth. He could still sense the blood pounding weakly and relished in working him back up to painful stiffness as he sucked and bobbed his head, ignoring Ferdinand’s wordless moans that were going more hoarse by the second. This, after all, was revenge. His fingers gripped the dimples of Ferdinand’s hips and he knew the mop of his dark bangs was sweeping his skin with every dip of his head. To his delight, Ferdinand’s hand found its way among those curls, pulling them aside and gripping them for something to hold onto as Hubert pushed him past overstimulation. He glanced up to see thin tears sliding from the creases of Ferdinand’s eye as he writhed beneath his mouth. Soon Ferdinand’s pulse beat frantically and his darkening cock twitched to Hubert’s satisfaction, orgasming dry and making his muscles jump. Hubert could feel himself still half-hard between his legs, but knew it was still pointless, promising himself to ensure there would be another chance between them.

Ferdinand lay exhausted and overstimulated, in body and soul. A sweep of pride came over Hubert, both for his triumph, and at how marvelously Ferdinand had received him. Not only that, but he felt somehow protective, deeply fond of the man before him who had successfully invaded the very edges of his mind and refused to leave. He climbed back onto the bed and lay beside him, stroking his long hair despite slightly sticky hands, and gazed down at him possessively. Ferdinand was catching his breath and stared back up at him, his complete lack of shame both surprising and unsurprising.

Hubert shifted backward and Ferdinand caught his hand, holding it tightly.

“Stay with me?” he whispered.

Hubert nodded and settled his body beside him. Ferdinand cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. 

“Ah, apologies, what I meant was…” he touched Hubert’s cheek and it made Hubert feel as if Ferdinand was in control again, despite being the one wriggling on the bed mere seconds earlier.

“Before we started, before… all of _this_ just now…” he laughed, breathless and still hoarse, and it stirred Hubert’s heart like a breeze through branches, “I didn’t get a chance to say it properly. Will you stay… _together_ with me? At my side, as equals? As…” he whispers the word with all the shameless sincerity that Ferdinand von Aegir’s lips always carried, “…as lovers?”

Hubert laughed. The word sounded so ridiculous, something that should only ever be written in flowery script or novels about chivalry, and never spoken aloud. But that was how Ferdinand always spoke—and, Hubert had begun to believe, how his own thoughts truly sounded. 

“Yes, Ferdie,” he couldn’t resist the gentle patronizing, safely masking his own sincerity. He smiled, weariness and chill already setting into his muscles. He pulled Ferdinand’s body close, letting himself learn the feeling of them overlapping for the first time. “If that’s what you wish, I’ll stay.”

“I do,” Ferdinand vowed tiredly with a self-assured smile. He tugged Hubert’s chin downward and pressed a kiss to his sore, exhausted lips, and then lingered with a second one. Hubert inhaled contentedly through his nose—it was heavy and sweet, almost something like clotted cream. As the redhead pulled back and let his eyes slip closed, Hubert realized with a start—had Ferdinand’s kissing already just improved?

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanna say I've never played a single Fire Emblem and I don't even go here but I've been reading so much Ferdibert and so desperately inspired by [Bohemienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne)'s fic [Festering Under Your Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465312/chapters/48559553), and also by Chryselis's above-mentioned fic that I had to join in :') Apologies if anything is not quite canon (and for the horrible pun title), but I hope the emotion rings true!
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
